


o'er the hills and far away

by pocketedwocket



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Nesting, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:26:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketedwocket/pseuds/pocketedwocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel realizes that Dean is showing an interest in what he's been doing while he's seeking out God, he decides to bring him along. This is about the places they go, in more ways than one. Takes place during S5 (veers a little bit into AU territory because of the timeline).</p>
            </blockquote>





	o'er the hills and far away

One by one, Castiel works his way throughout every country on the planet Earth, seeking out his Creator. He travels alone, looking for his Lord high and low throughout the deep and dark places of the world. He makes it a habit of checking in with the Winchester boys, even if he never has any new information to report. It's just search after endless search. Castiel meets with them anyway, and tells Dean about Shanghai. He tells him about Moscow and about Saudi Arabia. Castiel has so many stories about life on the "road", and Dean listens. He listens to all of it. 

It's after Jakarta that Castiel starts to realize that Dean is showing an interest in his quest to find the Lord, and it doesn't appear to be a false one.

*

Dean insists they abandon Sammy and go out for a beer when Cas gets back from Australia. His treat. Dean asks him questions about the geography, the culture, the kangaroos. Dean seems unashamedly interested in marsupials. 

Castiel talks as long as Dean will listen. Castiel tells him about the Great Barrier Reef. Castiel explains how he found God, but in ways he did not expect. God is there, in the water, in the fish, but it's not what he's looking for. Dean stares at him, engrossed. "Sounds pretty amazing." 

Cas smiles and nods his head. "It is," he agrees.

*

It's a slow Friday night the next time they see Castiel. Sam and Dean had just taken down a Bloody Mary two towns over and they've got nothing else on the radar, at least for a while. They check into what looks like the least offensive motel (it was a pick out of two - not all that hard of a decision, after all) and settle in pretty quickly. Dean's relaxing on one of the beds with a beer and Sam's on his computer, researching or watching porn or whatever. Dean doesn't really know or care.

Cas shows up in the middle of the room with no warning. The sound of his wings beating against the air makes Dean raise his head.

"Cas! This is a surprise," Sam exclaims.

"Didn't think you'd get any time off from your 'God Will Hunting' to come break bread with the two of us," Dean adds.

"I'm not taking any time off. I'm here for you, Dean." Castiel waits patiently, offering no further explanation.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean looks at him, startled. Cas is just standing there like a piece of furniture, expressionless.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "That sounds like an invitation to me, Dean."

"Shut up." Dean looks from Sam to Cas. "What are you talking about?"

"I think it would be beneficial for you to join me, Dean. Your skills could be… useful," Cas points out. He shifts. "You always express a heartfelt interest in my journeys; I thought perhaps you might like to experience some of it for yourself."

Sam grins. "That's so cute," he says, and Dean glares at him from across the room.

"Shut up," Dean growls. "So you're just… asking me to come hang out with you?"

"I suppose you could phrase it that way, yes."

Dean whistles. "Well, I'm not gonna say no to an all expenses paid angel va-cay. You in, Sammy?" 

Sam smiles politely. "You know what, I better stay here. Just in case." He turns to Cas. "Where are you off to, anyway?"

"France," Cas says. Dean gives him an appreciative look. Sam grins, and he winks at Castiel. _Smooth_ , the suggestive nod of his head says. "Is there something wrong with your face?" Cas asks.

"Uh, not at all," Sam says. "You two have fun." 

Castiel walks over to Dean's bed, reaches out, and taps two fingers to Dean's forehead.

*

"I thought this would give us a good view of the city." Castiel has his back to Dean as he looks at Paris spread out beneath them, the City of Light twinkling in the dark.

"You've gotta be kidding me." Dean smirks.

"I don't know what you mean." Castiel looks confused. He faces Dean.

"You just treated me to a candlelight dinner in Paris and now you've poofed us to the top of the Eiffel Tower," Dean says, like it should be obvious, but Castiel remains unaware, uninformed. "You're gonna send the wrong kinda messages to a girl, Cas," Dean shrugs.

"I'm not trying to send messages to any girls, Dean. Just you."

Dean doesn't say anything to that; he just pulls his jacket a little closer and steps forward to look out at the thousands of tiny lights shining below.

*

Castiel transports him back to Sam early Monday morning. Dean's not sure how to say goodbye. What's appropriate? A hug? A handshake? Dean settles for thumping Cas on the back and saying thanks. Cas disappears from the room a moment later.

"How was your sleepover with Cas?" Sam tosses him a muffin. He looks smug.

"It wasn't a sleepover," Dean replies gruffly. 

"Fine, then. How was your date?"

"Look, all we did was have some food and look around. It wasn't a date." Dean sinks his teeth into the muffin to distract himself from Sam's pettiness. It wasn't a date! Can't a guy take another guy out to dinner and show him Paris from the Eiffel Tower without -- oh, fuck it. It does kind of sound like a date. Dean cringes inwardly.

"Sounds like a date to me, Dean. Look, you don't have to be ashamed."

"I'm not ashamed because it _wasn't a date_."

"I'm serious. I don't have a problem if you want to date the angel. I'm cool with it."

"We're done here!" Dean throws up his arms. Forget it. He heads into the bathroom and slams the door.

* 

Cas takes Dean with him around the globe, after that.

Sam's insistence that their first jaunt was a date does little to deter Dean. It's an escape; it's something that isn't hunting. Heck, it's even kind of fun. 

Cas lets Dean sleep in every morning. Castiel heads out early and searches for God, and Dean sleeps until the sunlight shines in too painfully on the pillows and forces him to drag his ass out of bed. Dean gets sleep, real sleep, for the first time in what seems like years. Cas comes back each time in the early afternoon and watches Dean make breakfast in tiny hotel kitchens with a strange fascination. Greasy diner breakfasts are so integrated into Dean and Sam's lives that Dean secretly relishes the chance to make something of his own for once.

They always explore in the afternoon, whether it's a city or a village or a rainforest. Everything is new and exciting. Cas takes him everywhere. They climb Machu Picchu. They watch dolphins off the coast of Madagascar. Dean learns how to catch lobsters in Florida. 

Every night they sit down together while Dean gets his hands on some of the local cuisine. Cas watches him, occasionally trying something if Dean begs him to, but for the most part he is content to sit and watch Dean chow down. Castiel tells him later that he likes to think of it as a kind of communion, and Dean's just not sure what to say to that. It sounds kind of sacrilegious. 

It's different. To be honest, it's relaxing. Hunting isn't really something you can clock out of, and Dean never got the much-coveted family trips to Disneyland as a kid, so having a holiday once a week doesn't seem that awful. 

Dean learns more about the world in those few weeks with Castiel than he does during the rest of his life.

*

"What is this place?" Dean says, marveling as he gazes around. It feels unreal. Behind them is a lighthouse that looks impossibly old. 

"Pharos."

Dean shrugs and keeps taking in the atmosphere while Cas stares at him. There are ships in the harbor, and the people… Dean starts to piece it together.

"Wait a second, Cas… I thought the Lighthouse of Alexandria didn't exist anymore."

"You are correct. It was destroyed many years ago."

So this was some of Cas's time travel shit. He's pulled this before, but only during times that necessitated the excess.

"Cas, you really shouldn't be bringing me places like this. Isn't this, like, a major no-no in the big angel rulebook? Bending time?" This is great, an opportunity of a lifetime, but Dean doesn't really want to mess things up too much if it's not a life-or-death situation. No need to ruffle _too_ many feathers if he doesn't have to.

"Time passes differently for angels than it does for humans. But I suppose you're right. I seem to get a little carried away sometimes," Cas explains. "I wanted you to see it. I believe humans consider it to be one of the Wonders of the Ancient World." Wonder of the Ancient World or not, Cas can't tear his eyes away from Dean.

"I don't get it," Dean says later that day while Cas eyes him from a few feet away. "You take me to the most stunning places on earth and you never look at anything but me."

*

The first time Cas kisses Dean it catches him off-guard for approximately three seconds before he recognizes that this is something he can probably get behind. Cas feels pretty fantastic, and he should have known it was coming with the whole Angel Cruise Line thing that they'd had going on lately.

So Dean lets Cas kiss him, and he kisses back. Cas pulls him close and Dean lets somebody else take care of him for the first time in his life. 

*

They find God in Vietnam. Well, at least Dean starts to think so, anyway. Cas brings them to Ha Long Bay right into the middle of a boat. Whenever they do this now Cas stands a little closer, holds him a little tighter than he needs to, now, but Dean isn't gonna complain. An arm around his shoulders really helps with the motion sickness from the crazy angel mojo.

"Do you feel that?" Cas says, leaning forward. There's a strange weight to his question. Dean gets excited. The wind blows through the bay, and there's an eerie sense of calm. 

"God is here."

"He is? Does this mean the scavenger hunt is over? We can go home?" Dean tries to figure out the next step in his head, the next plan of action, but Castiel's reply stops him.

"No, Dean, not… not in that way. Not the way we're looking for. Can't you feel him in the wind? In the water?"

Dean is not drunk enough for this hippie shit. But this place is beautiful. He closes his eyes and sits still. Eventually Castiel moves over and wraps his arms around him, maybe to take him somewhere else, maybe not. 

"Yeah," Dean finally mutters, his voice low. "I guess maybe I can."

*

Dean sleeps with him for the first time in Norway. Dean says that it's so that when he misses him, he can say he's pining for the fjords. Monty Python is apparently lost on angels. When Dean finally makes his move, Castiel looks perplexed and stares at him until Dean asks him would he please get the fuck over here so he can quote, suck his fucking dick already.

Norway is cold, it turns out, and Dean wakes up in the early hours of the morning to search for a blanket for himself and Cas, who is passed out on the floor. They'd had some pretty Olympics-worthy sex last night, given that Cas had been a virgin before they'd started. Dean is pretty impressed with his handiwork -- getting the angel to actually fall asleep is usually somewhat of a struggle.

Dean longingly eyes the bed, but tucks them both in under the comforter he grabbed, pleased with the heat Castiel seems to be putting off. He wraps an arm around Castiel's waist and vaguely hopes they're not in troll country.

*

Cas takes him to Olympia, which makes Dean laugh. "Named after Mt. Olympus… home of the gods."

"I thought it was worth a shot."

God's not there, but they walk around the ruins of Olympia anyway. Dean grabs his hand, just for a minute, and tries not to think about the impending Apocalypse.

*

One night Castiel takes Dean to this wicked sweet hotel in Saint Vincent. Everything is sleek and minimal and it's probably the nicest hotel Dean has ever seen. There is a _suite_. There's even a full kitchen. Just past the spacious and almost uncomfortably modern white couch is a massive window with the most amazing view Dean has ever seen from inside a hotel room. He's used to parking lots and nothing much to look at outside of the usual hideously patterned curtains, but this takes the cake.

Just beyond the balcony is a vast expanse of sand and beyond that, the clearest water Dean has ever seen. Dean tries to remember the last time he saw a palm tree. They're scattered across the beach.

"This is… wow. This is amazing."

"I hoped you would like it."

"Last one to the beach is a rotten egg," Dean declares, stripping off his shirt. Castiel just looks at him.

"Rotten egg?"

"It's a metaphor, Cas. You know, the last one there is… okay, forget it," Dean says with a smile and a wave of his arm. He'll save similes and metaphors for later.

"Am I correct in the assumption that you would like to go for a swim?" There we go, now Cas is catching on.

"You got it, pal," Dean says with a wink.

*

Dean spends the next morning on the beach under an umbrella while Cas plays hide-and-seek with the Lord. Reading just seems like one of those things that people do on vacation, so Dean digs up an old copy of _Catch-22_ that he really meant to get around to reading sooner.

He falls asleep in the sun, book forgotten beside him in the sand. When he wakes up again, he's in an ugly motel bed. Sam's poring over what looks like some not-so-light reading and drinking a cup of coffee in the tiny motel armchair.

"Oh, damn it."

"Something wrong, Dean?" Sam asks with a little wave to say hello.

"No, I just-- I left my book."

"I believe it's what humans would call 'no big deal'," Cas says, looking at Dean in that way only Castiel can pull off. He's hovering by the window next to the bed.

"You're right. No big deal. I'll see you later?"

Castiel nods. Dean blinks and he's gone.

"Having fun?" Sam asks, disturbing Dean's train of thought. 

"Yeah, actually," Dean replies, almost surprising himself. "I guess I kinda am."

"That's good," Sam says, oddly appreciative, before looking back at his book. He sounds like he means it.

"Sam, is everything cool? I mean, haven't been around much lately--"

"Are you kidding me? When you're waiting for Cas to drop by it's the best you've ever looked. You seem happy, man, I wouldn't change that for anything," Sam says, heartfelt. Dean feels a little twinge of something inside. He's not sure whether he's impressed or disappointed that his little brother is managing so well without him around as much.

"You can say something, man. If it is--"

"Don't worry about it, Dean. Really. You need some relationships that aren't… me, anyway."

Is that what this thing with Cas is? A relationship? That seems like an awfully big word to stamp across it. Dean's never been a big fan of labels. He rolls over and pushes his face into the pillow. Somehow life had become less _and_ more complicated at the same time.

*

Castiel never takes Dean back to the same place. Once Cas is sure that God isn't there, they spend a day and move on. Dean never gets to see the same thing twice. Every night is spent somewhere different on Earth. So naturally, Dean is confused when they end up in that same gorgeous hotel room in Saint Vincent for a second time.

"What's up, Cas? You miss a spot?"

Dean's not complaining. He's not used to luxury, and this is definitely the kind of place that belongs on a postcard. It is a little unusual, though, to see a place that they've already been.

Cas sneaks up behind him and turns him around, one hand framing Dean's hip and the other running through his hair as he pulls him in for a kiss. Dean closes his eyes and immediately forgets what he was talking about.

Castiel takes him on the sofa in front of the window that night, soft and slow. At one point Dean's eyes drift over to the countertop where he sees a copy of _Catch-22_. 

He forgets to ask about it later.

*

Cas starts taking them back to the same hotel more frequently. They meet up with Sam less and less, meeting him during most of the weekdays to hunt when Sam needs a hand. It used to be that Cas would mojo Dean back to whatever hideous motel Sam is staying in bright and early on most Monday mornings, but now more often it seems like Cas comes to pick him up most evenings and whisk him away to another foreign country. Around the world in eighty days with an angel.

For almost two full weeks, they spend every night in the same spot.

*

Sunlight seeps into the bedroom easily through the large glass sliding doors that lead out to the beach. The morning sun has the tendency to wake Dean up, but not rouse him completely. Most mornings he rolls over closer to Cas and pulls his body to his own, wrapping an arm around his waist and drifting off again.

Castiel does this weird thing when they cuddle. He _stares_. It's like waking up with a cat watching you; it's unsettling. Dean can't take it. So instead of lying still on this particular morning, he rolls over on top of Cas and lays one on him. When Dean looks down to grin at him, Cas is bleary, mouth reddish and completely kissed-out.

"Good morning," Cas whispers in that gruff voice of his. He's started "sleeping in" - Cas doesn't really _sleep_ much, but he'll stay in bed with Dean, watching him sleep. The search for God seems to get started later and later every day.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean answers back, punctuating it with a kiss. He's content to roll back over now that he's interrupted Castiel's unnerving staring, but Cas seems to have other ideas, holding him there by tangling their legs together under the sheets. Cas brings his hands up to rest on Dean's ass, casually stroking Dean's skin with his thumb as they kiss. It matches the morning: creeping and hesitant and gentle. It's everything Dean never thought he could let himself have.

*

Dean is making bacon one morning, hearing the sounds of Cas getting out of bed in the other room. He hears Cas brushing his teeth and getting dressed and going through the boring morning routine of a human being that Dean has tried to helpfully instill, because let's face it: even angels get morning breath. While the bacon sizzles in the pan, Dean looks around.

This is what Dean sees: a fridge, full of food that he loves, right next to a pantry that's full of nearly every junk food he could ever crave. Three of his books stacked up on the countertop. His handgun on the coffee table. Cas's trenchcoat is hanging up by the door. Dean's swim trunks are draped over the balcony, drying out from a late-night swim.

Cas comes trudging out of the bedroom wearing nothing but pajama pants. A year ago, Dean probably wouldn't have believed in angels if you had asked him, let alone believed they wore pajama pants. 

Cas sits down on a stool at the counter, quietly observing Dean. When Dean turns around to face him, it hits him all at once.

"Cas. Do we live together?" Cas looks down. That seems to be the only answer that Dean needs. "This isn't a hotel, is it?" Dean asks, but it's more of a statement than a question -- and they both know it.

"Condo." Cas stares at the countertop.

"You, ah, ever planned to ask me about this sometime?"

Dean hears the pan sizzle a little too loudly and turns back around to rescue his bacon. He puts four pieces on a plate and sits down next to Cas at the counter.

"I wasn't sure how to approach the subject. My Father says much about homes. I wanted to… prepare a place for you. To provide for you."

"So this is what, your little slice of Heaven on earth?"

"Something like that."

Dean eats his breakfast as he turns over the idea of _home_ in his head. "You're happy with this?"

"I am content, yes," Cas replies, looking rather discouraged. Dean notices that Cas has kind of lost the wind in his sails and he reaches underneath the counter and places a hand on Cas's knee. "I apologize if I've made you upset," Cas starts.

"I'm not upset," Dean says quickly. "Worried. About Sam. And… other stuff." Dean picks up a greasy piece of bacon and devours it hungrily. "How long do you think something like this could really last, anyway?"

"I understand." Cas stands up. Dean grabs Cas's arm and pulls him back down.

"There's nothing to understand, Cas." Dean's expression is unreadable for a moment. "Just because it might not be forever doesn't mean I'm not willing to try it, anyway." Dean surprises himself with his own honesty.

Castiel looks significantly more pleased after that.

*

Keys are meaningless, what with Cas's ability to teleport them wherever they need to go, but a key to the place in Saint Vincent mysteriously ends up on Dean's keyring anyway. It's kind of sweet, Dean thinks, even though he's not really into that kind of thing. It's nice to have a tangible reminder of what he and Cas have, since so much of whatever it is isn't exactly what you could call tangible. He doesn't even want to know whose name is on the lease. He doesn't know if there _is_ a lease.

The key fits perfectly into the front lock and it stays nestled right next the key to the Impala on Dean's keyring. It's too bad Dean never actually gets a chance to use it. 

Fuck the Apocalypse.

*

Stull Cemetery ravages Dean like a wildfire. Once he's alone, he stays in the Impala and just drives. He drives and drives and drives, no direction apparent, until the Impala is low enough on gas that he's forced to stop at a run-down gas station nearly four hours later. Dean dreads the loss of momentum that comes with having to make a pit stop.

Dean holds his keys in his hand after he pulls them out of the ignition. There's one key on the loop that is a fairly recent addition -- new enough, anyway. Frustrated, he starts to slide it off the ring without really thinking. 

He tosses it out the open window of the Impala and gets out of the car to refuel.

*

Ten minutes later, the Impala has a tank full of gas. In the passenger seat are two bags of Combos, a forty of malt liquor, and a cup of coffee. Meal of champions.

Dean kneels next to the driver's side of the Impala, going over the concrete until his fingers slide across cool metal. He picks the key back up, gets in the car, and keeps driving.

The key burns a hole in his pocket all the way to Indiana.


End file.
